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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739524">Human</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment'>TsarinaTorment</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scott Edition [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Delirium, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, carbon monoxide poisoning, emotional breakdowns, turning sibling dynamics on their head</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:22:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott needs to stop taking his helmet off first chance he gets - one day, his luck will run out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scott Tracy &amp; Gordon Tracy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scott Edition [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Human</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sofasurf">sofasurf</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For "Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scott Edition", the prompt 'delirium' featuring Gordon (requested by sofasurf). Warning for implied PTSD.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The problem with being a younger brother, especially when an older brother had a tendency to be overprotective, was that when said overprotective older brother wasn't, well, <em>himself</em>, the world shifted and lurched somewhat disconcertingly. Gordon had spent a year and change in active military service, away from any brothers – older or younger – and had subsequently proven himself perfectly capable of coping without a hovering big brother always in his life.</p><p>There was a difference between absence and… <em>this</em>.</p><p>"I'm fine," Scott had said. "No, you are not piloting my 'bird home."</p><p>Gordon dearly wished those statements weren't both currently turning into lies.</p><p>He was never at his most comfortable in Thunderbird One. Too fast, flighty, hyper-responsive to every touch on her controls, she pummelled him with way more g-forces than the human body was supposed to be exposed to and dropped like a stone the moment Scott took both hands off the controls without setting an autopilot first.</p><p>"Scott!" he yelped as his stomach ended up somewhere in the region of his mouth, fingers curled tightly into the harness keeping him in the jump seat behind his brother. Scott didn't respond, his hands somewhere up by his head, and Gordon's heart joined his stomach in his mouth. "Scott!"</p><p>They were falling straight out of the sky; leaving his seat was the height of insanity, but Scott wasn't responding and fear about his brother's sudden deterioration overrode everything else as he threw the harnesses off and clung to the 'bird's hull to get himself up to the pilot seat. Under his feet, through the viewing window, water was rushing up to meet them at an alarming speed and while Gordon was always up for a swim, he didn't really want to enter the water quite like this.</p><p>No time to move Scott, he heaved himself into his brother's lap as though he was ten years younger and yanked at the controls – awkward, <em>unique</em> controls unlike any other plane in existence and Gordon really needed to spend more time in the sims. The startled movement of the brother behind and beneath him, hands pushing at him in a panicked protest, didn't make it any easier but Gordon had more strength than he looked and managed to brace himself long enough to bring their freefall to a stop.</p><p>Putting them into a hover, he slid back off of Scott's lap before he was thrown off and turned to look at his brother. With the pilot's chair raised and their already annoyingly large height difference, he had to crane his neck to look at Scott's face. The hands were back up by his head, running through his hair distractedly, but it was his eyes that caught Gordon's attention.</p><p>Normally, Scott's eyes were clear and sharp, full of purpose with the underlying love that made Scott <em>Scott</em> letting them soften ever so slightly if there was a brother in view. Now, they were slightly hazed, darting around without taking anything in. Gordon waved his hand in front of them and they snapped to him, wide and not a little confused.</p><p>Gordon cursed. <em>I'm fine</em>, Scott had said not half an hour earlier, stifling a cough and pretending his lungs weren't wheezing with every exhale. This was not <em>fine</em> and there was a large part of Gordon that wanted to sink to the floor in relief that they'd chosen just to use the one 'bird. Thunderbird Five was partially offline for maintenance, Thunderbird Three was on Mars with Alan and Virgil, and Thunderbird One was enough for the rescue. Gordon wasn't even sure why he'd come along, but with the sight in front of him, he was very glad he had.</p><p>"This is why we <em>keep our helmets on</em>," he quipped, because he'd been annoyed at the time and he was annoyed again now, because annoyance was easier to work around than fear. Fear could come later, once they were home safe.</p><p>Scott's hands were trembling, and Gordon reached for them slowly. Blue eyes watched him, still hazy, as his chest heaved and air whistled out of his mouth. The moment he made contact, Scott flinched away, a noise of protest on his lips.</p><p>"It's okay, Scott," he promised as Scott tried to escape backwards, only to be stopped by the back of his seat. "It's me, Gordon."</p><p>The whimper that tore itself from Scott's throat ripped his heart in two. This wasn't Scott, Scott never <em>whimpered</em>, had never sounded so vulnerable in his life and Gordon pretended his own hands weren't trembling as he pulled them away from Scott's still-raised hands and rested them on his knees instead. Scott jerked at the touch but didn't pull away this time. Blue eyes faced him but didn't settle <em>on</em> him, instead looking <em>through</em> him.</p><p>Gordon wondered what he was seeing.</p><p>"Hey, Scotty," he murmured, brushing his thumb over the fabric. "It's okay. You hear me?" Scott kept staring through him and he squeezed his knees lightly. "Scott, look at me." He was trained for this, but he wasn't trained for <em>this</em>. Not when it was Scott, strong dependable Scott who never, ever showed a weakness if he could help it. "Scott."</p><p>Blue eyes sharpened ever so slightly, just enough that Gordon thought maybe he was seeing him, now. It was a start.</p><p>"That's it," he encouraged. "Keep looking at me. Do you know where you are?"</p><p>There was something that might be the start of a frown, and those blue eyes flicked away from him for a split second before finding him again. "Scott? Do you know where you are?" Scott blinked at him, and for a moment Gordon feared he wouldn't answer.</p><p>"…One?" It was quiet, unsure, but it was a response – even better, a correct one. Gordon let himself smile up at his brother, squeezing his knees again reassuringly.</p><p>"That's right," he assured him. "We're heading home." Scott's eyes glazed again and Gordon tightened his grip, trying to keep his attention. "Scott!"</p><p>He already knew there was no way Scott could pilot the rest of the way home, and with Thunderbird Five in maintenance he couldn't ask John to remote pilot. That meant he would have to do it, but Scott needed to move.</p><p>Getting Scott to surrender a pilot seat mid-flight was harder than getting Virgil out of bed before dawn.</p><p>"Scott, look at me," he snapped as blue eyes wandered again. Scott sluggishly found him again, but Gordon wasn't entirely sure he was seeing him. He reached up for the harness and raised it away from Scott's shoulders, trying to ignore the flinch it elicited from his older brother. "I need you to stand up. Can you do that?"</p><p>Scott didn't respond and Gordon put his hands back on his knees.</p><p>"Scott," he insisted. "I need you to stand up." He'd lost him again, blue eyes clouded and flicking around without an aim. "Scott, please."</p><p>Scott still didn't respond and Gordon knew he should take his time, but the longer they stalled the longer it would be before he could get Scott the medical attention he needed. Thunderbird One just didn't have the equipment to hand like the other Thunderbirds did.</p><p>"Come on, Scotty," he coaxed, reaching for his hands and this time capturing them when Scott tried to flinch away. "Scott, I-"</p><p>"No!" Scott yelled, yanking his hands back firmly. Gordon didn't lose his grip, but stumbled forwards and landed half in his brother's lap. "No, please, I can't… please," he babbled, words fading into simply sounds as he kept trying to get free. Shocked and horrified at the reaction, Gordon let him go.</p><p>"Scott," he pleaded, pushing himself back upright. He didn't try to touch him again. "Scott, do you know where you are?"</p><p>His brother whimpered again, breathing hard and still wheezing. Gordon hadn't known Scott <em>could</em> whimper, and the dread in his gut coiled tightly as a suspicion formed.</p><p>"I won't hurt you," he promised, resting his hands on the arms of the chair to keep himself upright as Thunderbird One continued to hover in the same position. "Do you know who I am? Scott?"</p><p>Blue eyes locked on him as Scott surveyed him with clouded eyes. They were wide, a naked fear Gordon had never seen in his brother's eyes before. Gordon didn't move as his brother blinked, eyes sharpening just a touch. "Gordon?"</p><p>"That's me," he grinned, but horror dawned on Scott's face and he lunged forwards, arms outstretched.</p><p>"No!" he protested. "No, you can't be here! No-"</p><p>"Hey, Scott!" Gordon caught him. "It's okay; we're safe. We're in Thunderbird One, remember?" Scott was shaking but didn't pull away. "Talk to me, Scott." Trembling hands gripped his shoulders as blue eyes met his.</p><p>"Gordon," he repeated. "Gordon, I… I don't- what-"</p><p>"It's okay," Gordon repeated. "You're okay." He wasn't, had been caught out by a gas leak after taking his helmet off – against protocol. Again. It was a bad habit of Scott's, and one that would get him killed when his luck ran out. Gordon had no intention of letting that happen, but it would take more than just him to get on his case about it before Scott listened. "Trust me?" Scott's chest was still heaving against his hands, but blue eyes were fixed on him.</p><p>"Always," Scott admitted. "Gordon, what- what happened?"</p><p>"Carbon monoxide," Gordon reminded him, biting back the scolding for later as blue eyes started glazing again. "Scott, you need to move."</p><p>"I-?" Gordon pulled him to his feet before his coherency abandoned him again. Scott stumbled but followed, stepping down from his seat and leaning heavily on him.</p><p>"Come on, Scotty," he coaxed, guiding him back to the jump seat he'd vacated and conscious that his eyes were clouding over and starting to flick around again. "There you go." He eased him down into the seat and pulled the harness across him before raiding Thunderbird One's lockers. She wasn't as equipped as her sisters, but a rebreather was basic equipment and considering Scott's deteriorating condition, he needed one.</p><p>Scott did not want the rebreather. Gordon attempted to coax him into wearing it but he panicked whenever it made contact with his face.</p><p>"Scott," he pleaded as his brother once again recoiled, shaking his head and attempting to bat him away with his hands. "It's a rebreather. It'll help you breathe."</p><p>"No," Scott protested, striking out harshly and sending the equipment flying out of Gordon's grip. It clattered against the side of the hull before coming to rest on the floor.</p><p>"<em>Scott</em>," Gordon despaired, picking it up and stowing it away before finding another one. He kept a tighter grip on it – Thunderbird One only had two, one for each passenger seat. If Scott wrecked this one, Gordon would have to get creative. "Scotty, please." He waited until his brother's wandering eyes found him again, still cloudy. "Scott." He offered the mask, but Scott recoiled. "It's safe," he promised, before turning it around and putting it over his own face, making sure to take visibly deep breaths.</p><p>Wide eyes narrowed a little, watching him, and when Gordon held it back out, Scott cautiously accepted it, guiding it to his face. Gordon watched him closely until he took a shallow breath, and then another.</p><p>Finally satisfied that Scott was getting the air he needed to counter his earlier poisoning, Gordon settled himself into the pilot seat. They should have done all that earlier, before the confusion settled in, but Scott's stubborn belief that he hadn't inhaled enough for it to be a problem had proved to be his undoing. Grandma and Virgil were going to have both their hides for this mess, but for the moment Gordon was more worried about getting home quickly.</p><p>Thunderbird One was not his plane of choice. She was as sensitive as Four, but when travelling through the skies rather than the seas, Gordon didn't like the hyper-sensitivity and much preferred the stability of Thunderbird Two. As he pushed her forwards, finally leaving the hover and climbing back up to the appropriate altitude, he made a mental note to definitely spend a bit more time on the sim.</p><p>Behind him, Scott made a noise of distress, and Gordon didn't know if it was because of the poisoning or his treatment of his brother's beloved 'bird. In all honesty, it could have been either, but Gordon couldn't turn his head to see – he wasn't Scott; he couldn't turn away from all the instrumentation mid-flight.</p><p>For the most part, Scott stayed silent during their journey home. It wasn't particularly long, Thunderbird One's speed seeing to that even with an aquanaut at the controls, but silence from Scott was never a good sign, especially when he was a passenger in his own 'bird. He was by far the worst back-seat pilot in the family – and yes, that included Parker in FAB1 – and a rebreather wasn't enough to shut him up.</p><p>Alan had learnt that the hard way, once. At the time, Gordon had been cackling at his younger brother's misfortune. Now, he was wishing Scott was bothering him about his lack of innate piloting skill.</p><p>When there wasn't even a peep during his landing – Thunderbird One had a ridiculously difficult landing, even more so than Thunderbird Three because at least Three had stabilising RCS thrusters to help – Gordon bit the inside of his cheek and the moment the Thunderbird was secure enough that he could take his hands off the controls he was moving, clambering down her now-vertical fuselage to where Scott's eyes were semi-closed and entirely glazed over.</p><p>"Scott?" he prodded as the bay doors opened for the passenger exit. The loading arm was ready and waiting but Gordon barely gave it a glance. "Scott, are you with me?" He cautiously reached out to touch him, rubbing his shoulder as he raised the harness. This time there was no flinch, and Gordon sighed in relief as blue eyes seemed to clear slightly, focusing on him.</p><p>"Gordon?" Scott's voice was faint, muffled by the rebreather.</p><p>"That's me," he grinned. "Let's get you out of here, big bro."</p><p>It took some effort to move Scott, his brother alarmingly unco-ordinated but too heavy to simply scoop up and carry out. Gordon made sure that the rebreather stayed in position, aware that fresh air would help more than anything else. Thankfully, his awareness didn't drift again until after they were out of the Thunderbird, although Gordon would have rather it didn't slip at all.</p><p>Scott was taller than him. Normally, that didn't stop Gordon from picking him up – albeit with some effort – but with him conscious, yet not aware, he didn't dare risk it. He could do some serious damage to both of them if he lashed out again, so when Scott stopped, Gordon stopped, too.</p><p>"Scott?" he tried, once again inserting himself into his brother's line of sight and waiting until wandering blue eyes settled on him. "Do you know where we are?" he asked once they did, Scott focusing on him with still mostly-glazed eyes. There was no comprehension, so he repeated the question to be rewarded with a more purposeful look at their surroundings.</p><p>Scott's gaze landed on Thunderbird One and stayed there, but something shifted in his face.</p><p>"Scott?" Gordon prompted. The silence stretched for several long moments.</p><p>"H-home," his brother eventually murmured, voice hitching and still weak behind the rebreather. "I'm home." To Gordon's alarm, tears sprung up all of a sudden before Scott fell to his knees. Gordon was a split second too late to catch him but joined him on the floor regardless, catching Scott's hands as he went to bury his face in them.</p><p>Scott didn't flinch away, blue eyes hazed over but staring straight at Gordon. Gordon didn't know who he was seeing, but whoever it was, Scott lunged at them, pulling his hands free from Gordon's grip in the process. They latched around him, and within seconds, Gordon had a sobbing brother on his shoulder.</p><p>No amount of training could ever prepare him for this. He could soothe rescuees, calm hostages and cheer up Alan, but Scott was different. Scott was his big brother, the one always with a steady shoulder for everyone else. Gordon knew he cried, too – he was still human, after all – but it was always in private, far away from the rest of them. Never in front of them, and certainly never into Gordon's shoulder.</p><p>"Scott?" he asked, returning the hug because hugs he could do. Scott shuddered under his touch, gasping even with the rebreather digging in uncomfortably and wracked with sobs. It was a loss of control completely unlike his brother – Scott was more prone to shouting and, if it was really bad, hitting things when his emotions ran high. "Scott, what's wrong?"</p><p>He didn't get an answer, but really, he didn't want one. Call him a coward, or a child that still wanted his big brother to be invincible, but he didn't want to know what could possibly have reduced Scott to this.</p><p>(In the back of his mind, the suspicions gathered again. He banished them.)</p><p>"We need to get to the infirmary," he reminded his brother, squeezing him for a moment. "Can you walk?" He didn't expect an answer for that, either, so when Scott shook his head he was left wrong-footed. "Okay," he said, swallowing the <em>what the hell is going through your head right now</em> and the <em>but you never admit that</em> because they wouldn't help. "Okay. Hold on."</p><p>It wasn't far to the infirmary, but Scott was tall and heavy and Gordon still wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't going to pitch a fit but they had to get there and Gordon really, really needed some backup of the Grandma variety on this because he'd survived military service and defeated his own body when it tried to give up on him but he couldn't handle Scott crying.</p><p>He staggered to his feet, Scott in his arms like some damsel in distress – and wasn't that a comparison he never thought he'd make – and still sobbing freely into his shoulder. Scott didn't react to the movement, and Gordon wasn't sure if he should be glad for that or not as he made his way haltingly towards the infirmary and prayed that Grandma was already there.</p><p>She was, some ingrained grandmother instinct summoning her to grandsons in distress.</p><p>"What happened?" she asked, even as she was sweeping back sheets on a ready-made bed. Gordon took the unspoken invitation to gently deposit his brother directly on it, but found himself unable to retreat with Scott's arms clinging to him in a manner more suited to Alan's limpetting.</p><p>"Gas leak," he summarised over the sound of ongoing broken sobbing and wheezing hiccups. "Scott inhaled some carbon monoxide and delirium set in about halfway home." He tried and failed to extract himself. "Not so sure what prompted this," he admitted, glancing down at his brother before looking back to Grandma. The woman perched herself on the other side of the bed, reaching out to run light fingers through Scott's hair.</p><p>"Nothing?" she asked, and Gordon shook his head, suspicions rising only to be violently quashed again. He received a Look. "I know this is hard, Gordon, but is there anything you can think of?"</p><p>Gordon shook his head again, but this time it was less a no and more an <em>I don't want to think about it</em>. Reluctantly, "Bereznik" slipped from his lips, hanging heavily in the air between them. He knew little about Scott's time in the military – just as his brothers knew little about his – but it was impossible to forget the fear that his brother wouldn't be coming home.</p><p>Scott never talked about it. They never asked.</p><p>Grandma's lips narrowed but her eyes were full of understanding sadness as she reached for her eldest grandson and somehow coaxed him into releasing Gordon, who staggered backwards, away from his brother and the tears and the <em>wrong, wrong, wrong</em> before he realised what he was doing.</p><p>"Go get changed," Grandma ordered. "Hot shower, warm clothes. There's food in the kitchen."</p><p>Gordon knew what she was doing, but that didn't stop him obeying with a speed that betrayed just how much he couldn't handle Scott's current state. He fled to his bedroom – and it <em>was </em>fleeing; he was mature enough to acknowledge what he was doing. Grandma was there, Grandma would look after Scott, Grandma could handle it.</p><p>He made it most of the way into his shower before he broke, trembling fingers pressing against the bathroom mirror as his eyes traced the scars reflected back at him from his own ordeals until his vision blurred and tears flooded down his face. Scott was only human, Scott screamed and cried and bled like the rest of them, but he was <em>Scott</em>. He didn't do any of that in front of Gordon. He was the big brother, solid and steady when the world fell apart, and just because Gordon knew it was all a front, that Scott was at least as torn up as the rest of them inside, didn't mean that he could face it. Not like this.</p><p>Not like <em>this</em>.</p><p>He was under the running water before he realised he'd moved, fresh water mixing with salty tears on his face until his cheeks were soaked. It pummelled at his shoulder, trying and failing to wash away the sensation of the rebreather digging in and the pressure of his brother's face.</p><p>The water was cold by the time he got out, but he could still feel Scott pressed into his shoulder.</p><p>The hoodie he pulled on, as per Grandma's orders, was an old one of Scott's, emblazoned with Kansas's soccer team's logo. Neither of them had played soccer at school – Scott had been a basketball guy, and Gordon had swum for as long as he could remember – but they'd both had enough of an interest to go see matches on occasion with Dad. Once he'd outgrown his own hoodie, he'd stolen Scott's and eventually Scott stopped trying to take it back (probably because he'd outgrown it – while it was still a little baggy on Gordon, especially in length, Scott had bulked out a lot from his teenage years, too). It didn't see the light of day so much anymore, not since they'd moved to Tracy Island and thrown everything they had into International Rescue, but it was there and today, Gordon needed it.</p><p>MAX must have made the food, because it was edible. Gordon didn't have an appetite, but he choked it down anyway because he knew what was important and self-care was high on that list. He didn't touch the apple pie, though. At least, not to eat. Warm and fresh out of the oven, he cut out a significant slice and carried it with him back to the infirmary with hunched shoulders and the plate held out in front of him like a peace offering – or a shield. He had to see Scott, but at the same time he was afraid of what that would mean. What he'd have to face. With a reluctance he couldn't quite shake, he nudged the door open and stepped inside.</p><p>Scott was asleep. Surprised, Gordon faltered, tripping over air and almost dropping the plate.</p><p>"Careful, kiddo," Grandma warned from her seat by the bed. Gordon plastered a grin on his face – so painfully fake he could <em>feel</em> Grandma's gaze burning straight through it – and approached, forcing himself to look at his brother.</p><p>It was easier while he was asleep. His uniform was gone, replaced by soft yet worn pyjamas, and his face was clean. Hints of red by his eyes were the only sign of his earlier tears, but barring them he looked almost peaceful.</p><p>It was a look Gordon didn't see on him often, anymore.</p><p>"How is he?" he asked, setting the plate down by the bed where Scott would no doubt find and devour the slice of pie the moment he woke up. Grandma put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.</p><p>"He'll be fine," she assured him, fond smile on her face. "The damage from the carbon monoxide is neutralising quickly, he just needs to sleep it off." There was something odd in her tone when she said the word <em>sleep</em>, and Gordon glanced at her in askance. She sighed. "By themselves, the toxin levels weren't high enough for this level of delirium." A hand brushed Scott's hair back from his face where the gel was losing the battle to maintain his preferred style. "Your brother's been pulling too many all-nighters again. He's grounded for a week after he wakes up again."</p><p>Gordon wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. That this could all have been avoided if Scott had actually got some sleep in the past week was just typical Tracy luck. He did neither, curling up against Grandma's side as he watched his brother – strong, dependable, <em>still human, fragile, breakable</em> – sleep.</p><p>Grandma said nothing; her fingers ran through his hair, messing up his perpetually messy style, but the action was soothing and reminded Gordon of years gone by, when he'd try to stay up late but always ended up falling asleep on his grandmother's lap. Usually nostalgia swelled, coaxing a fond grin and a trip down the happier parts of memory lane. Today, after everything, Gordon wanted to be that little kid again, where his biggest worry was how fast he could swim and not his biggest brother falling to pieces on him. Grandma still said nothing as he shifted, putting his head down on her lap and facing Scott.</p><p>Exhausted and utterly drained, he fell asleep to the never-ceasing ministrations of his grandmother's fingers in his hair and the soft, finally wheeze-free breathing of his brother.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not sure how much 'delirium' ended up in here; Scott got somewhat out of control and I just rolled with it while Gordon panicked. Oops.</p><p>Tsari found Bad Things Happen Bingo and immediately got herself a card to use on Scott. To turn it into an actual game, I'm asking people to pick one of the prompts and a not-Scott Thunderbirds character to write him with and writing based on what I get! <a href="https://tsarisfanfiction.tumblr.com/badthingshappenbingo">You can see my card on my fanfiction tumblr</a> alongside prompts I've already received if you want to join in the fun (contacting me via tumblr or comment is both fine)!</p><p>Thanks for reading!<br/>Tsari</p></blockquote></div></div>
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